Ha, who called it? It’s cold and snowing like balls today. It took me an hour to get to work and I only live in the next town over. Fortunately, Joe was nice enough to go out and scrape off the car for me since we forgot to put it in the garage last night. No man wants the guilt of not helping out his pregnant wife, right?
We saw something gross on Friday night. Waiting to park at a restaurant in Cambridge, we saw a rat go scurrying across the parking lot. It bolted right under our car. On the positive side: we were in the city, there are a lot of restaurants in that area, and parking is halfway down the block from the place we were going anyway, so it’s not like the rat and the restaurant were connected in any way. On the negative side: eww, rat.
Saturday my friend and I took advantage of the gorgeous 60-degree weather and went out for coffee and shopping. Saturday night Joe and I went bowling with Long Story Short, her high school friend who was up visiting, and Professor K. The friend was totally cool and nice, and we had a great time with them. My play, however, was abysmal. Sometimes I kick ass and sometimes I suck ass at bowling, and Saturday I totally sucked it. I barely broke 50 in the first string, though in the second I did manage an 83. Everybody else was flirting with 100, even the friend, who had never bowled in her life! I think she even had two strikes. Whatever—it was fun, and if I ever get competitive about bowling scores, please kill me.
Yesterday we mostly stayed in and lounged around. I woke up with a headache so I was in no mood to do anything except read, nap and watch football. I read “How to Kill a Rock Star” by Tiffanie DeBartolo in about five hours. And I was really happy to see Denver take a beating. Not that I wanted the Steelers to win, because I hate them, but I really hate the Broncos this year. And Carolina—what the hell happened? Delhomme’s QB rating was something like 6 at one point, though it did creep up to around 14 by the end of the game. Pathetic. I was glad they lost though, because I never want to hear the name “Steve Smith” again. I can’t believe he tied with Bruschi for Comeback Player of the Year. Hello, he broke his leg; he didn’t come back from a fucking stroke, so you can’t even try to say they’re on the same level as far as a comeback is concerned.
One last observation: Matt Hasselbeck is so very, very young and so very, very bald. As is his brother. Awful follicular genes in that family.
We saw something gross on Friday night. Waiting to park at a restaurant in Cambridge, we saw a rat go scurrying across the parking lot. It bolted right under our car. On the positive side: we were in the city, there are a lot of restaurants in that area, and parking is halfway down the block from the place we were going anyway, so it’s not like the rat and the restaurant were connected in any way. On the negative side: eww, rat.
Saturday my friend and I took advantage of the gorgeous 60-degree weather and went out for coffee and shopping. Saturday night Joe and I went bowling with Long Story Short, her high school friend who was up visiting, and Professor K. The friend was totally cool and nice, and we had a great time with them. My play, however, was abysmal. Sometimes I kick ass and sometimes I suck ass at bowling, and Saturday I totally sucked it. I barely broke 50 in the first string, though in the second I did manage an 83. Everybody else was flirting with 100, even the friend, who had never bowled in her life! I think she even had two strikes. Whatever—it was fun, and if I ever get competitive about bowling scores, please kill me.
Yesterday we mostly stayed in and lounged around. I woke up with a headache so I was in no mood to do anything except read, nap and watch football. I read “How to Kill a Rock Star” by Tiffanie DeBartolo in about five hours. And I was really happy to see Denver take a beating. Not that I wanted the Steelers to win, because I hate them, but I really hate the Broncos this year. And Carolina—what the hell happened? Delhomme’s QB rating was something like 6 at one point, though it did creep up to around 14 by the end of the game. Pathetic. I was glad they lost though, because I never want to hear the name “Steve Smith” again. I can’t believe he tied with Bruschi for Comeback Player of the Year. Hello, he broke his leg; he didn’t come back from a fucking stroke, so you can’t even try to say they’re on the same level as far as a comeback is concerned.
One last observation: Matt Hasselbeck is so very, very young and so very, very bald. As is his brother. Awful follicular genes in that family.
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